


Loving Winter

by Seta_Kaita



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Daryl is a stockman in Australia, M/M, Rick is an American backpacker, Rickyl Writers' Group December 2015 Challenge, Winter Romance, some smut, versatile rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seta_Kaita/pseuds/Seta_Kaita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl works as a stockman on Alexandria Station in Outback New South Wales, Australia, where he meets Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh, two American backpackers from Georgia. Falling in love with Rick Grimes in ten stages.</p><p>A winter romance written for the Rickyl Writer's Group December Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loving Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michelle_A_Emerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/gifts).



> A gift to the wonderful Michelle_A_Emerlind! Thank you for everything you've done and are still doing for me! Thank you for putting up with me in the first place, for being such a fantastic beta, for accepting me the way I am, for encouraging me to do what's best for me and living my life the way I want. Thank you for all your lovely words, for being my friend and helping me find new friends, too. Thank you for being you!
> 
> Beta-ed by Michelle_A_Emerlind. You are fantastic, MAE!

Meeting

The world revolves around fools, Daryl had decided when he was eight and saw his mum slip into a dress that was about three sizes too small for her, make-up thick on her face reminding him of a really crappy clown. The way his father had looked at his wife, like he hadn’t looked at her for as long as Daryl could remember, was the decisive factor for him to come to this conclusion about the insanity of the human race. He could deal with the tension at home, with barked insults and the white-hot pain of a belt stripping the flesh off his back. But when it came to love, Daryl thought he might have been born on Mars, for how alien the concept seemed to him.

Then he met Rick Grimes.

“Met” was quite the euphemism, to be honest. Shearing season had been just around the corner and Michonne, his employer and manager of Alexandria Station just outside of Wilcannia, had had him fix a few minor things in the shearers’ quarters while she stayed back at the homestead to wait for her new backpackers to arrive. On the way back, Daryl had noticed a wounded sheep near one of the water points. He had stopped to take a look at the poor ewe. Her front legs were broken and the wool on the side she had been lying on was still wet, so Daryl guessed she must have been drinking when something had scared her and she had tried jumping over the trough, failing and subsequently breaking her legs.

Fan-fucking-tastic, he thought. Of course he had left his buck knife at home, taking a small pocket knife instead and nothing in his bag of tools was sharp enough to slit the poor girl’s throat. She was a grown sheep, wool thick as it was supposed to be this time of the year, and the muscles in her neck far too strong for him to snap her neck just like that. But he couldn’t just leave her lying here and dying of thirst, he couldn’t be that cruel. So he had no other choice than to lift the ewe up and drape her over his knees on his bike. Why he hadn’t taken the bloody ute out here in the first place was beyond him.

With the heavy sheep over his legs, opening and closing gates was no fun at all, just like switching gears was a pain in the arse, but he managed nevertheless. What was far less fun was having to take a sharp left in Limestone paddock to get on the main track back to the homestead. When he leaned to the left, the ewe suddenly decided she didn’t like the angle and started thrashing about, which resulted in a very undignified slide along the sandy road. Cursing a blue streak, Daryl only just managed to kick the bike back upright when his foot connected with the ground, but he still ended up in the bush instead of the road. He stopped the bike for a moment to straighten the sheep’s position, earning himself a very unimpressed look from the injured lady, before he turned the bike back onto the road. Really, if the poor girl hadn’t been invalid and about to die anyhow, Daryl would have seriously considered shooting the bitch.

His day, though, was about to turn infinitely better; in both a sarcastic and true sense. Just as his legs were falling asleep, the homestead drew near and Daryl reduced his speed. He passed the holding yard and was just about to round the corner of the tool shed when he caught sight of a silver Suzuki Grand Vitara in the driveway. Michonne and Andrea were standing next to it with two young men who were most likely the new backpackers. One of them had his back to Daryl, but the other one looked over to Daryl and the sheep on the bike, taking in the sight and smiling at him.

Daryl blamed the laws of nature for losing his balance and this time, he crashed properly. His reflexes were just quick enough to push off the bike as it tipped way past the critical point and he would have jumped off the thing completely, rolled away and come out with just a few scratches and bruises, if it hadn’t been for the 50kg sheep lady on his lap holding him down.

So instead of saving his own arse at the last moment, his lower left leg and foot got caught in a loving cuddle with the 400cc Suzuki. His thigh, on the other hand, chose the ewe’s broken front legs as a liaison partner and the nastily hard hooves pressed into the muscles almost more painfully than the bike on his shin bone. On the other hand, the sheep’s weight and bulk also served to pin him in place rather well, so instead of getting dragged along with the bike all the way, it slid off his legs quickly and kissed the rocks on the side of the road instead.

There was silence for a moment, everyone frozen in shock while their brains processed what had happened. Then the ewe on Daryl’s lap grunted in pain and started kicking, trying to get off the stockman and free her aching legs in the process. Which, in turn, added a nice set of bruises along his right side from the kicks to Daryl’s list of injuries.

Andrea was the first to move, sprinting over to the bike to pick it up before too much fuel could leak out. Michonne strode over with a few measured steps and pulled the sheep from his legs, giving it a quick once-over and deciding to just leave it lying next to him, as it couldn’t get up with the two broken legs, anyway. Then she stood over Daryl, hands on her hips and mock-glaring at him.

“Daryl Dixon, what in the devil’s name are you doing to my sheep?” She purred with amusement that Daryl could only pick up because he had known her for most of his life. He winced a little as he pushed up, moving his injured leg experimentally to see if it was broken. It hurt like a bitch, but that was it.

“Carry them ‘round your bloody paddock ‘cause I like to cuddle. Fuckin’ ‘ell! What d’you think?” He bit back a pained groan as he grabbed her arm and pulled himself upright again. Only then did he allow himself to look over to the other two men. They had both rushed over to him as well, one of them keeping an eye on the sheep while the pretty one watched him curiously.

“How did she break her legs?” Michonne inquired, glancing towards the poor animal.

“Found her at Netherby bore. Didn’t have me knife on me, so I brought her back here.” Daryl explained, rubbing his aching leg a little.

“Fair enough.” Michonne nodded and asked Andrea to get the butcher knives from the drying room. Then she turned towards the backpackers with a grin. “Well, looks like yous arrived just in time for a killing. Wanna watch?”

Daryl didn’t feel nearly as bad as he had when the two blokes stared at the boss in shock, colour draining from their faces quicker than the fuel from his bike. Later, when he showed Rick how to cut the sheep open, Daryl laughed his arse off while Shane puked his intestines out.

 

\---***---

 

Falling

Daryl hadn’t noticed just how deep he was in until the very first day of mustering. They were all up before dawn, having breakfast together and discussing everyone’s tasks for the morning. Michonne had spent a few hours every day for the last two weeks to get the backpackers settled on their bikes while Daryl had been out fencing. So when Daryl saw Rick and Shane on the bikes that morning, it was the first time for him. They took off just after sun rise. The air was freezing cold and they had all shared a good laugh when Eugene, the gyrocopter pilot, put on his clear glasses and they fogged up in an instant, then freezing over. As far as Daryl was concerned, he preferred the summer over winter in the Outback, even if the temperatures were prone to rise up to 50°C for a few days. For some reason, Daryl got cold really quickly and he despised the biting wind that cut up his face as they sped down the road on their bikes. But shearing happened during winter, so there really wasn’t anything he could do about it.

As the day wore on, the sun rose higher in the cloudless sky and the temperatures rose by twenty degrees in two hours. Daryl shed his coat soon, but stuck with his jumper for a while. He was paired with Rick for the day and the backpacker still had too much trouble navigating the bush for Daryl to take a moment and sort his clothes out.

A loud curse tore Daryl’s attention from the mob of sheep in their front to his companion in time to see Rick stop his bike and reach for his forehead. Without much ado, Daryl turned his bike around and approached the other man.

“Hey, mate, you alright?” He inquired, ducking his head a little to catch Rick’s eyes.

“Yeah, just got a twig to the face.” Rick reassured him, dropping his hand away and blinking in Daryl’s direction. There was a shallow cut on Rick’s temple that bled like a bitch, but Daryl could tell it was nothing serious. He glanced over towards the sheep to check that they hadn’t strayed too far from the fence line they were pushing them along.

“You good? Or d’you want me to radio Michonne and tell her we need Tyreese over here so you can take a break?” Daryl was already reaching for the radio’s handpiece, but Rick grabbed his wrist lightly.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” He laughed lightly, smiling at Daryl in a way that made his stomach do funny things.

“No worries.” Daryl managed to rasp, mouth suddenly very dry.

“C’mon, mob’s getting away.” Rick pointed out after a long moment, his voice a whole octave deeper and his accent just a tiny bit thicker. Daryl allowed himself a quiet sigh while his mind was loudly singing love songs.

 

\---***---

 

Companionship

Rick and Shane stayed at Alexandria Station all winter long, heading north in spring, just before lambing season. Michonne threw a little goodbye party with everyone down at their fishing spot by the Darling River. They had a barbie and some beers, Tyreese and the guys fishing while Andrea sat with Tara from the pub in town, listening to Eugene telling a weird story about a wild boar up to the shoulders in a dead cow’s arse, eating it up from the inside. Shane was busy shooting off his own bullshit stories with Michonne while doing his best to get shitfaced.

And Daryl spent all night with Rick by his side, talking about his home town in Georgia in the states, arguing over the stars’ constellations and giving Rick tips about places in Australia he should visit. As everyone around them turned in for the night, crawling into their swags and tripping over empty beer cans and bottles on the way, the conversion trailed off into a silence that was even more comfortable.

When Rick and Shane left that arvo, he slapped a piece of paper down on the table in front of Daryl with a grin and bade him farewell. Looking down, he found both backpackers’ numbers written down along with a bold: “Just call me, pansy.”

 

\---***---

 

Reconnaissance

Before summer arrived and brought with it the tropical rain storms, Daryl made his way to the Top End for a few weeks. His cousin Carol ran a restaurant in Cairns with Daryl’s brother Merle. They had invited Daryl over a while ago, but with shearing and lambing, Daryl just hadn’t managed to find the time. Now, with Michonne’s permission and three weeks’ worth of holiday, he packed his bags, loaded his stuff in the tray of his ute, chained Ripper, his Kelpie, up in the passenger seat and took the Outback highways up north.

Three days later, he dropped his stuff at Merle’s place, said a quick hi before jumping in his ute again to drive to the esplanade. He parked the truck, jumped out and practically jogged alongside the bay to get to the public pool. It didn’t take him long to make out the brunette curls he had been dreaming about for months now. To his utter delight, Rick was alone, Shane nowhere in sight. When Daryl called out for him, Rick turned around, face nicely tanned again and the widest smile on this side of the Pacific Ocean taking Daryl’s breath away.

That night, Daryl didn’t care that he was paying a horrendous price for the crappy hotel room he shared with Rick, didn’t mind that their neighbours had to deal with all the delicious sounds he drew from Rick’s lips as he fucked him against the wall next to the bed. They didn’t sleep much that first night, mouths too busy kissing and sucking on any body part they could reach, hands gripping hips and upper arms, nails digging into backs, fingers curling around hard cocks or rubbing circles over prostates.

For three weeks, Rick and Daryl were inseparable while they pretended not to dwell on their future. Daryl ignored that he was six years older than Rick, Rick ignored that Daryl was an Outback stockman with no money and they both pretended Rick didn’t have to go back to Georgia in two months.

 

\---***---

 

Distance

The first time Daryl skyped with Rick, the shitty connection breaking up the video feed and the stuttering quality to Rick’s voice nearly drove Daryl round the bend. The unique melody of Rick’s Georgian drawl got completely lost in the static and Daryl felt like crying.

That was until Rick cut the video feed, thus reducing the strain on the weak connection, and sent him a snapshot of himself instead. He must have made a noise upon opening the file, because Rick laughed beautifully. And all of a sudden, Daryl realised how completely and utterly fucked he was. He was head over heels for this man, who was about to start police training back home and would very likely never return to Australia, which meant Daryl would never get to touch him again.

So Daryl felt even more stupid for thinking to himself that if they kept this up for the rest of their lives, just skyping and sending photos, he would still die a happy man.

 

\---***---

 

Hope

Life, in general, has the funny habit to be completely unpredictable. That much Daryl had learned in his thirty-odd years on earth. He supposed it wasn’t exactly rocket science to figure that out, but it might just have been the greatest truth he had ever learned. And in return, he made a habit of never letting anything surprise him.

Except maybe for receiving a bloody Christmas invitation from Rick fucking Grimes with an enclosed return ticket to Atlanta, Georgia, US-of-fucking-A!

Daryl dropped everything right where he was standing on his veranda in Broken Hill and dialled Rick’s number on the landline. Screw phone bills and that it was probably a very ungodly hour on the other side of the world. He listened to the ringing, impatiently tapping his foot.

“Yeah?” Rick’s sleepy voice greeted Daryl, who closed his eyes and revelled in the sound for a second.

“Hey, Rick. ‘S Daryl. How you doin’?” He purred into the phone, smiling when Rick made a happy noise. “Listen, I got this really weird letter here, says some bastard from Georgia invited me to come to America to have a bloody Christmas party with him. Ring a bell?” He heard a chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Guilty. Can you make it?” Rick asked hopefully, sleepiness suddenly gone with the wind.

“Nah, I’m flat out.” He lied just to listen to Rick stuttering about how it wasn’t a big deal and he’d expected to get turned down anyway. Finally, Daryl took pity on him. “Oh, shut it, will you? I’m just fucking with you, Grimes. I can’t believe you sent me a bloody plane ticket, too.”

“Yeah, well, Merry Christmas, baby. I’ll pick you up at the airport, then?” Rick suggested with a yawn before the tell-tale sounds of Rick stretching filled the line. Daryl delayed his reply while Rick was making such delicious noises, imagining the other man standing next to him, his shirt riding up while he stretched, just waiting to be ravished. He hummed to himself in appreciation and Rick took it as an answer.

“Cool. I’ll make sure we’re well-stocked on beer.” Rick laughed softly and Daryl eyed his little beer-belly. Shit, he only had two weeks to get rid of that!

“Beauty. I’ll let you get back to sleep now, Aurora.” Daryl smirked to himself when he heard Rick laugh a little louder this time.

“I can’t believe you just made a Disney reference.”

 

\---***---

 

Reunion

When Daryl finally had his hands on Rick’s skin again a fortnight later, he was beyond ecstatic. All the way from the airport to Rick’s apartment, he had barely been able to keep from touching him. But without much ado, he grabbed Rick and steered him to the bed as soon as they got through the door of his bedroom, hooking his hands behind Rick’s thighs as their feet hit the side, lifting Rick up so he could toss him into the soft embrace of the sheets. Then he paused for a moment to take in the view before him. Rick looked good like that, Daryl found: his shirt unbuttoned, missing his belt and his hair dishevelled, panting lightly and looking up to Daryl with dark eyes, beckoning him closer. And how could he resit the silent plea, really? So he pounced.

Passionate kisses fuelled their desire for each other while they raced to get rid of their clothing. From there on, things were a haze of lust. Daryl hardly registered Rick tossing the lube next to where the Aussie had his head buried in Rick’s lap, sucking his cock with abandon.

“Fingers, Daryl! I need you in me like yesterday!” Rick commanded, breathless, words mumbled around his knuckles he was biting to muffle the desperate little noises he was making.

Daryl complied, pouring some lube on his fingers and sliding two in straight away. Rick took him in easily, his body telling Daryl elaborate tales about what Rick was getting up to on his own when he was pining for Daryl. He might have considered teasing him for a while, if his composure hadn’t been crumbling away under his feet like it was built on pillars of sand. So he had a condom rolled over his cock before long, all slicked up and ready to go. He stole one last, deep kiss from Rick before he got up on his knees, putting Rick’s legs on his shoulders and sank into the blissful heat that was Rick’s body.

They hadn’t made any plans for the rest of the day and in hindsight, that turned out to be a wise decision. Rick came long before Daryl did, his body going rigid and he released a deep, drawn-out moan when he did, clenching around Daryl deliciously. But Daryl was nowhere near done with him. He just kept his pace up, thrusting in and out relentlessly until the other man had caught his breath enough to smirk up at Daryl and flip them over, climbing on top to ride him agonisingly slow. Daryl, desperate and loving every second of it, gripped his hips tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, eyes half crazed with need, but he let Rick call the shots.

It took a while, every minute wonderfully torturous to Daryl, until Rick’s cock hardened again and he finally got down to business. When Rick increased the pace, tilting his head back in ecstasy, he lifted his hands from where he had been pushing Daryl’s hips down, giving him permission to thrust up into his body at long last. He watched through heavy eye-lids as Daryl came, rocking up into Rick hard, grunting through clenched teeth.

“Just you wait”, Rick purred as he climbed off Daryl, stealing a quick kiss from the man underneath him, “I’ll make you scream yet.”

Ten minutes later had Rick reversing their positions, taking Daryl from behind, nailing his prostate expertly and breaking through his refractory period faster than ever before.

 

\---***---

 

Opportunity

“So, I wanted to suggest something to you.” Rick confessed with a yawn, his head resting comfortably on Daryl’s chest. Daryl signalled his attention with a low hum. “I know it might be a little quick and all, but I figured it would be worth a try.” Rick began, but left things hanging there, offering no further explanation. Daryl was a patient man, though, so he waited for Rick to gather his bearings and spit out whatever was going round his pretty, little head.

It really was a pretty head. Daryl made sure to convey the sentiment with a chaste kiss to Rick’s temple, but apparently the other took it as a prompt to keep talking.

“There’s this friend of mine- well, to be honest, he was my dad’s friend. Anyway, a family friend. Owns a farm just a short ways from here.” Rick finally continued a little bashfully. Daryl could clearly see where this was going, but he let Rick get it all off his chest. “He has cattle, but I know you can handle that. So I asked him if he needed some help. I might have explained a few things about our situation.” He stopped again at that point like he was expecting Daryl to throw a fit over his partner – was he his partner now? – sharing private information with a stranger, but Daryl kept quiet still. “Anyway, Hershel said he would like to meet you and if you guys got along, he would help you with all the bureaucratic bullshit and your visa and stuff. You know. Things…” It seemed like Rick was done with his suggestion, because he shut up after that.

They lay together in silence for a long time while Daryl ran the information through his head, everything that it meant and everything that he felt about it. Rick – bless him – made no attempt to force an answer out of him, knowing fully well the extent of what he was asking of Daryl.

“Is that what you want?” Daryl asked softly when he was done thinking things through for what felt like at least an hour.

“Yes.” Rick replied simply and Daryl nodded. It all boiled down to this, in the end: Rick wanted him.

“Okay.“

 

\---***---

 

Future

Daryl stood on the porch of the Greene homestead, looking out over the frost covered pastures. It really was a little frustrating that he had just escaped winter in New South Wales only to get thrown straight back into the season in Georgia. And it was nearly Christmas, too. Weird to think that this year, there would be no barbie at Alexandria Station for him, no swimming in the river, fishing, sitting in the shade all day in shorts and mozzies eating him up. Instead, there was frost in the morning and chilly wind creeping under his clothes.

The door behind him opened and Hershel stepped out with Rick, the two of them discussing the deal Daryl had just made with the old man. And Daryl still couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. That anyone in this world apart from Michonne would ever be willing to employ his worthless arse. Even stranger yet, that someone as perfect as Rick would want him. That he was pulling all these strings so Daryl could be with him.

And that, right there, was Daryl’s personal Christmas miracle.

He didn’t want or need snow, fugly Christmas decorations, presents, family dinners or Christmas Carols. Neither did he need barbies, cool beers by the river, 40°C in the shade, festive lollies or half a year’s worth of Bundaberg Michonne had made a habit of giving him for the holiday.

No, when Daryl really thought about it, he had all he wanted right here, standing next to him.

 

\---***---

 

Love

Daryl had never been good with words. That was alright, though, because no one who knew him expected him to make grand speeches, least of all Rick, who knew better than anyone else what happened when you pushed him too hard. But that Rick didn’t need him to say “I love you” out loud was fucking with his mind. And it wasn’t like Daryl didn’t _want_ to say it or that it wasn’t true. He just found the words too damn important to say them every bloody day. He barely even let Rick hold his hand with their friends around.

So he took Rick on a dirt bike trip through the desert in Nevada for their one-year anniversary and promised himself he would find the right words to say then. He didn’t have much opportunity to ride the bike he had bought apart from his daily commuting to and from Hershel’s farm. He loved riding bikes, so he had missed the feeling. And while Rick hadn’t exactly been a natural with the two-wheelers, he had become quite comfortable with them over the winter he had spent at Alexandria Station and enjoyed the trip well enough.

It was cold in the desert, like Daryl was used to from the Outback, but as he lay with Rick in his swag at night and looked up to the glittering masses of stars he could barely see from their apartment in King County, he found he didn’t mind the winter all that much. It reminded him of home, more than the desert, stars or bikes could. Because he had met Rick in winter, had fallen in love with him in the cold and Rick had never failed to keep his heart warm despite any nasty temperatures. So really, he should love the winter, he supposed.

Rick snuggled closer to him, his head tucked neatly underneath Daryl’s chin and Daryl’s arm drew him in even closer, fingers drawing mindless patterns on his back.

“I love you.” Daryl whispered into the silence of the night and Rick smiled.


End file.
